Suggestive
by Friendship-Bravery-Souffles
Summary: Twoshot - The Doctor, comfortable with masquerading as my husband while we break into a mad lady's gated community, but usually so caught off guard if you say anything, well anything suggestive. (Now with a second part because I got asked nicely several times and had an idea for it that wouldn't leave me alone)
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: The only part of Doctor Who I own is my unabashed love of it. The rest belongs to the BBC and friends.**

* * *

"Well..." I say as the Doctor and I walk back to the TARDIS, leaving the rather handsome American in his great coat behind us.

"Yes, 'well' sums up Captain Jack Harkness pretty adequately. But I have a feeling you have more to add to that." The Doctor says almost grudgingly.

"Quite the man. He'd be fun to have around. And he is possibly the most suggestive person I have ever met. Actually, forget the possibly part because he is definitely _the_ single most suggestive person I have ever met."

The Doctor groans and makes a face at me.

"Now see, I don't get why you humans, well I guess you humans who speak English, only use the word _suggestive_ when you are referring to... _that_ kind of thing." He waves his hands awkwardly near the end before unlocking the TARDIS and holding the door open for me.

"What do you mean?" I ask, raising an inquisitive eyebrow at him as I step into his temperamental time machine.

"I could be _suggestive_ about anything if you take the word the way it is defined. I could _suggest_ that I think y-someone is beautiful. I could _suggest_ that I think it will rain in London tomorrow. I could _suggest_ that Galladon is miserable for anyone with cat allergies. I could _suggest_ that I think pears ought to be banned from the Milky Way galaxy." He is making wild hand gestures now.

Don't laugh Clara, don't do it…

"I could _suggest_ anything, but the only time that I am being _suggestive_ would be if I were to subtly or not so subtly make a remark about _that _kind of thing."

We are standing by the main console now. His arms have gone from whipping about to being crossed over his chest and if I didn't know better I would say he is actually pouting. If this keeps up my battle to stop myself from laughing at him is going to be a lost cause.

The Doctor, comfortable with masquerading as my _husband_ while we break into a mad lady's gated community, but usually so caught off guard if you say anything, well anything _suggestive_.

There are exceptions to that rule of course, the occasional time. Such as when he informs me that my pants are _so_ on fire, or when I tell him to dare me to do something and he does, or when I know he is watching me as I walk away from him, or when we share a 'job well done' look for so long that I can't help but remember reading somewhere that if you keep eye contact for more than six seconds it means you either want to murder the person you are staring at, or that you just, _want_ them.

I can't say that I don't like the moments when he decides not to act like a Victorian housewife, because as much as they usually surprise me a tad I really do enjoy them.

"I don't have a good answer for any of that Doctor. We are standing in a time machine though, so I could _suggest_ that you take a hop to whoever started using the word that way to have a proper chat with them."

My joking use of the word 'suggest' earns me an irritated look.

"Well I can't go around changing words of major languages whenever I like. Believe me, there are a few more I would love to sort out. I'm not going to deny that I have _accidentally_ added a few before. But that was never on purpose, usually I just said something before it had been thought of because it had been thought of sometime else."

I'm shaking my head at him and he catches me doing so, which gets me another irritated look.

"Yes its timey whimey." He finishes reluctantly.

"So where are we going next?"

"You're the boss." He says, moving towards the console to begin the elaborate process of getting the TARDIS on the move again. I love it when he says that.

"Well I might _suggest_ somewhere that isn't Victorian England, but will be similarly agreeable to your delicate sensibilities."

"Who says I've got delicate sensibilities?"

"I think I just did." I say, pushing myself off of the railing I was leaning on and walking around the console towards him.

"I do not." He insists.

"Okay, so prove me wrong then." I challenge, stopping a few inches in front of him, crossing my arms and leaning a bit into his personal space.

I'm not sure why I'm not letting this go, why I am being so relentless here, but he isn't really running away so why stop? He is giving me an odd look though, like he is thinking about something _really_ hard but doesn't want to seem preoccupied.

Five seconds, six, seven, eight… fifteen, sixteen seconds…

"Cat got your tongue?" I ask.

The Doctor snaps to and spins away from me.

"Now _that_ is a good saying, an excellent addition to the English language. It's a shortened version of 'has the cat got your tongue?' which doesn't have the same ring to it, but was popular about fifty years ago. I used to hear it all the time when I made the mistake of staying in the mid sixties for a while. Lots of felines where the TARDIS landed and I was a bit new to earth colloquialisms at the time so it was rather confusing for a while wondering if the junkyard cats would one day make a move on my tongue but I got there in the end and now I must say I do like the snappier version that you lot use now."

"And I suppose you were there when the cat got someone's tongue and started this whole thing?"

"No, not yet at least…" He says thoughtfully, as if trying to dig through his memory to make sure.

"That was a fascinating tale Doctor, but it still doesn't disprove my theory that you have rather Victorian worthy sensibilities."

He lets out a frustrated sigh and I start laughing at him before I turn to the corridor which _should_ lead me to the library if the TARDIS hasn't decided to redecorate.

"I'm going to get some reading done, let me know when you are ready to head somewhere else." I say as I walk away. There is a spot of particularly polished metal by that door, and when I look at it I can see a rough reflection of the Doctor, who is watching me walk away. I can't help but chuckle.

"What is _so_ funny?" He calls after me.

"You are." I say plainly before I disappear around the corner.

I know he watches me, I let him do it.

Finding the library right where I last saw it is a nice surprise. Well not a total surprise, but something that I'm not taking for granted. The book I was midway through however has somehow found its way elsewhere from the couch I left it on. After some searching, I see one book whose spine is jutting out of a nearby top shelf. When I walk over to get a better look, it turns out to be the one I am looking for. Of course it is, because it is _way_ out of my reach and the ladders in here are heavy, even if they slide.

But I am not losing to the TARDIS. No way. So after a lot of effort I pull the ladder down the shelf and lock it into place under the book I want. Or at least I thought I had locked it, when I am right at the top it starts to veer away from the book, but doesn't get more than a few inches before it jerks to a stop.

I look down to see the Doctor steadying the ladder with both of his hands and looking up at me. Did I mention that I'm wearing a dress?

I grab the book I was reaching for, and head back down the ladder, trying to smooth my dress a bit as I go. When I am safely back on the ground, the Doctor takes out his sonic screwdriver and tinkers with the ladder's locking mechanism before turning to me again.

"If you don't mind I'd like to go to the Palace of Quartal on Galileo 9.1. Talking about pears reminded me that I'm supposed to show the kitchen staff about how to make a proper fruit basket. Might have been gone a bit longer than the two days I promised them, but still. It's better late than never to learn about the evils of pears."

I nod my agreement, palaces are always fun. He goes to leave before turning towards me again.

"That dress is very flattering on you." He says decisively.

"Pardon?"

"I said that the lovely green dress you are wearing is very flattering on you." He repeats, adding elaboration.

And with that he spins around and saunters out of the library, leaving me a little stunned.

* * *

After that, it became a bit of a game. Once in a while he will just drop random comments that are kind of _suggestive_ but not overly blatant, more like compliments. Usually these are said with a bit of a lower tone of voice, a raised eyebrow and sometimes even a wink, as if he wants to make what he is doing more obvious without commissioning himself a rank in the Innuendo Squad. Apparently he took the challenge of proving me wrong about his sensibilities much more seriously than I first thought.

The comments get a bit more personal as this goes along. Like he was waiting to see how comfortable I would be with it, and once his more subtle remarks about my clothing stopped fazing me as much, and instead brought a smile to my face and a 'why thank you Doctor' to my lips, he was free to carry on.

All of this was perfectly okay, if a tad… frustrating… until one day he made the mistake of doing it when somebody else was within earshot. It's not the first time that that has happened, but usually the person who heard him didn't know either of us well enough for them to really care or for us to be bothered.

This time is different though. This time its Angie…

She finds us standing in the narrow stairwell leading up to the attic, with me resting against the wall and the Doctor leaning forward over his one hand which is above my shoulder. She sees this, and then hears him say "we're going to have to get you out of that dress."

This of course prompts her wolf whistling at us, before laughing loudly as I duck under his arm and throw myself up a few steps to create a more nanny acceptable distance between us while trying hard not to blush horribly.

Now to clarify something, the Doctor hadn't actually gotten _that_ _suggestive_ with me. He was certainly playing the statement up, but the real reason he said it was because I had managed to get roxalona dust from Pluume all over me, and apparently prolonged exposure makes humans dizzy for days, so I needed to get out of the clothing that'd been showered in it for my own well being.

"I was going to ask you if I could go to Vicky's place for the night, Nina is already on her way there." She says when her laughter is more under control.

"Sure thing, just text me when you get there okay?" I squeak. Is the Doctor chuckling at me?

"Like you'll be paying attention to your phone Clara."

"Why wouldn't I be?"

She rolls her eyes at me.

"Artie and Dad are gone all night on Artie's school trip. And I'm going to leave the house and not be coming back till morning. Your _boyfriend_ is here and judging by what I just overheard, with all of us cleared out you will be rather preoccupied with someone who is definitely not your phone."

Even if I had been able to control my blush at having my 15 year old charge catch the Doctor and I in a, somewhat _circumstantially compromising_ position, there is no hope for me now…

Angie gives me an evil look, walks into her room, hoists a small backpack over her shoulder and wishes us a goodnight as she heads down to the door.

There is no question about it now, after the door slams shut the Doctor is definitely laughing at me.

"Clara if you turn any redder you'll be at risk of ending up on Mrs. Gillyflower's reject pile."

"Different kind of crimson horror Doctor… She isn't supposed to catch me doing… _that_ kind of thing … I'm supposed to be responsible and in charge and… stuff."

He grins.

"Ms. Oswald, 'things like _that_,' oh dear, who has delicate sensibilities now?"

I sit down on a step and rest my head back against the wall. I'm more flustered by this than I ought to be. It isn't a big deal really, Angie will tease me about it for a bit, but that might actually be a good thing if it gives her something not standoffish to say to me.

When I don't have a witty reply, the Doctor's expression changes a bit, going from 'I have an excellent chance of winning the game' to 'something is wrong with Clara.'

He sits on a lower stair across from me.

"Sorry…" He says awkwardly.

"Don't be, it's okay, really." I tell him, reaching to ruffle his hair a bit, which is kind of an odd thing for me to do.

"I might have gotten a bit carried away, I was having too much fun."

"You didn't get carried away, I was enjoying it too."

Well. That is an interesting place for us to end up at. I do believe both of us just said that we _liked _being _suggestive_ around each other. We actually properly said that, and now we're kind of staring at each other.

One second.

Two seconds.

Three.

Four.

Five.

Six.

Seven.

Eight.

Nine.

Ten.

Eleven seconds. Neither of us is looking away.

"I read something somewhere once you know." I say.

"You read a lot of somethings a lot of somewheres." He says.

"It was a silly little thing about eye contact. No idea who came up with it."

"Hmm?" He still isn't looking away.

"It was a general rule about six seconds."

"Rules are meant to be broken."

"You don't know what the rule is yet."

"Okay, so tell me." He shrugs.

I hesitate at that.

"Clara." He says.

"If you don't break eye contact with someone for six seconds, you either have murderous or… _amorous _intentions."

"It has been fifty-six seconds since we first made eye contact." He informs me.

"Well I knew it had to be more than just six…"

"I would go back to being a monk in 1207 for the rest of my life before I would physically hurt you Clara." He says sincerely.

"So…"

"This could be taken as a _suggestive_ thing to bring up." He says to me, standing again and offering me a hand up.

"I suppose it could." I say, not letting go of the hand that helped me up.

"Now. Clara Oswald, let's see about getting you out of that dress."

"Doctor, that could be taken as a very _suggestive_ statement."

He uses the hand I am holding to lead me up the few remaining steps to my attic and closes the door behind us before he leans close and whispers in my ear.

"I know."

* * *

**A/N: Sorry, I try to keep these two in character to the best of my ability and within cannon plot most of the time, but 'Ask Nicely' was too much fun to write so this happened… **


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: I honestly had no intention to do anything more with this, but a second part somehow happened anyways… I am terrified to ruin the first bit, so I hope I haven't. If I did though, please close your eyes and pretend it was a bad dream. **

_**Big**_** thanks to emmacat1234 for taking a look at a few of the drafts I came up with!**

**Disclaimer: The only part of Doctor Who I own is my unabashed love of it. The rest belongs to the BBC and friends.**

* * *

There are two things that I can depend on Angie Maitland to know: the whereabouts of her family and when they will be home again. In my opinion, there are two reasons for her acute awareness.

The first reason is because she acts quite differently around me when her father is gone, something I totally understand even if I find frustrating. She's a teenage girl who lost her Mum, and now has a friend of the family stepping into that spot of her life. I would never try to be her Mum. I of all people know that there isn't a replacement on this world or any other for one's Mother. But from her point of view I'm the one who nags about homework, makes dinner and does all of the other things her Mum would have been doing, _should_ have been doing. I'm a constant reminder of what she lost.

The second reason is because she _cares_ a lot more than she lets on. She loves her Dad and her brother a lot, and keeps better tabs on them than they will ever know. While I figure that this was probably true before she lost her Mum, that loss certainly made her awareness more keen. How could it not, when your Mum goes out to pick up milk and doesn't come back again.

So, considering how dependable her knowledge of the family's whereabouts usually is, I am properly surprised to hear a car door shut in the driveway, and to hear George Maitland's voice emanating from outside. Surprised and a tiny bit horrified, because the Doctor has at this point done most of the work at getting me out of my dress, despite not having shed much by way of layers himself, and I know that there are quite a few of those to contend with.

"Doctor…" I say awkwardly as I try to alert him to what I just heard, which doesn't really go so well, because apparently the nape of my neck is a lot more interesting than the car outside the house, which I can't say I want to argue, but we _really_ need to deal with the fact that the child I am a nanny of and his father just got back home, and, and... gahh…

I'm still trying to get the Doctor's attention when the front door to the house opens and George calls out to see if I'm in. The Doctor visibly jumps and looks down at me.

"I did try to warn you…" I say weakly.

"I was a bit preoccupied."

"I noticed."

"You liked it." He informs me, looking way too pleased with himself.

"Can we have this discussion later and worry about George and Artie right now?"

"What is there to worry about?"

Artie's voice echoes his father looking for me.

"Upstairs, down in a mo!" I manage to call, hoping the distance will muffle the fact that my voice isn't as… _normal_ as I want it to be.

The Doctor is looking at me like he is torn between cursing the… interruption… and laughing at me for looking so flustered, _again_, twice in the last half hour, this is _not_ okay. I'm supposed to be the boss.

My worry doesn't seem to be doing much to move the Doctor though, so I push him over and try get up with a bit of grace to find something to put on, aware that, as usual, he is watching me, which makes me blush for once while he laughs.

"Eyes front solider." I grumble at him.

"My eyes are front right now thanks."

With my back to him I can only assume he is wearing a smirk at the moment. I feel like at this point we have abandoned _suggestive_, that was just a blatant statement of intent, not an implication of a possible outcome… I mean, it was what was happening here… anyways… oh dear… I try to glare at him as I pull a skirt and blouse on, although I'm not sure how well it worked.

Taking a quick look at my hair in the mirror to make sure I have some semblance of dignity, I head down the stairs to find Artie setting up a chessboard and George putting on the kettle.

"Sorry, lost something in my room, John was helping me look for it." I say, heading into the kitchen and going to grab mugs for George from the cupboard, to give me something to think about other than what just happened. At this point I feel like it was a bit of my sanity I lost upstairs. They don't need to know that though.

I hear Artie get excited in the other room, and assume that must mean the Doctor has followed me downstairs.

"Will you play a game with me Doc-John? I always feel like I learn something from you! I would never make the mistake of getting into a fool's mate now."

Artie isn't the best at remembering not to call the Doctor, well, the Doctor, but he tries at least.

George grabs another two mugs from the cupboard, I suppose figuring the Doctor and I will join them. There is no getting away now even if I wanted to… When I walk back into the living room, the Doctor tosses me something, harder than he really needed to, which turns out to be my phone. Usually he is happy to play chess with Artie, and even goes easy on him for a while. Is it bad that I'm thankful he is more flustered about _this_… than it first seemed?

Seeing as it is in my hands, I check my messages on the way back to help with tea. I have two texts from Angie. The first saying that she got to Vicky's and hopes the Doctor and I are having 'fun,' the second sent a while later saying that she's giving me fair warning that something went wrong on the trip and that her brother and Dad are on the way home, though I probably won't know that until it is too late. Fantastic.

When George and I return to the living room a few minutes later carrying the mugs of tea, Artie is already being checkmated by a grumpy looking Doctor. Down boy, don't take it out on him…

George is chuckling at how shocked his son looks.

"Between the bus breaking down and this you don't have much luck today do you?" He asks him.

"No…" Artie says, looking downcast.

"I was on the same bus, so I doubt my luck would be any better." George says as he pulls Artie onto the couch next to him.

"Clara, why don't you have a go with John then?" He then says to me.

The Doctor looks up quickly from his sip of tea. When neither of us looks away, and I don't answer, he starts tapping his index finger on the handle of his mug. One, two, three, four, five, _six_… Oh my stars. He is counting off the seconds that we are looking at each other.

"Why not? I think John would be happy to have a _go_ at me right now." I say, raising an eyebrow and sitting down across from him. I am not particularly good at chess, but it will be worth getting beaten just to have been able to say that to him…

"Can John and Clara come out for pizza with us after?" Artie asks his Dad, his mood lightening again.

"Of course they can." George says.

It's my turn to not know whether to laugh or curse, looking at the Doctor's pained expression as he resets the chess board, turning it so that the black set is in front of him.

"White moves first." He says in a low tone of voice.

I had hoped that maybe knowing the Doctor's personality would help me last a bit longer in this game, but he doesn't play chess anything like he behaves in real life. In reality, he protects those around him with everything he has, and wouldn't choose to sacrifice anyone because he couldn't stand to waste something precious and unique in the universe.

In the game though, any piece is disposable if it gets him the positioning he wants on me, or the piece of mine he wants vulnerable.

Well… that would have sounded vaguely inappropriate even if we hadn't just been in the middle of doing _that_ kind of thing.

Sooner rather than later, the match is coming to its only probable conclusion, with me on the run and the better part of my pieces taken. I may have frustrated him more than we both had thought I would though, based on how deliberately he put down his pieces for the last seven moves or so.

"Checkmate." He says, slamming down his knight, leaving my king nowhere else to go. The knights move so erratically across the board I never saw it coming until it was too late. He looks me right in the eyes when he knocks my trapped king over with a finger.

Artie and George are sitting right there Doctor…

"Pizza time!" Artie bounds off of the couch towards the door, grabbing the Doctor's hand and pulling him along with George following them. I am left in front of the graveyard that is the chess board, and I can't help but put my face in my hands for a minute.

This whole evening, from getting caught by Angie, ending up down to my knickers with the Doctor on my bed, George and Artie coming home unexpectedly and then dragging us into a family night… It's all a bit too much… Now that I've had time to think about it, I'm almost scared of how _easily_ the Doctor and I both gave into this game of ours, our personal chess match that I had started back in the TARDIS weeks ago. White moved first that time too.

But is there a winner and a loser to this game? Can we both win? Can be both lose…

"Clara?" The Doctor's voice startles me out of my thoughts.

"Sorry, coming." I say standing up to leave. He passes me my coat, helping me into it like a gentleman, and pressing a kiss just below my right eye, where I didn't notice a small tear trying to escape.

I give him a shy look, he offers me a wink and takes my hand. We are about to head off to the car when I hear a familiar sound from not long ago.

Angie is leaning on the doorframe, and decided to wolf whistle at us again, causing us to jump apart.

"Guessing you didn't get my text then Clara? Too preoccupied with _someone_ who isn't your phone." She says with that evil look from before, this time leveling it at the Doctor, who blushes and moves his hands to indignantly straighten his bowtie, blushing a bit.

"Aren't you supposed to be at Vicky's?"

"Dad texted to invite us out for pizza, he said he mentioned it to you but you were rather _intent_ on a chess match with the Doctor and didn't seem to notice." She said disapprovingly, which is supposed to be my job.

"Off we go then." I say, trying to take control of the situation as best I can, grabbing the Doctor's sleeve and pulling him out the door, him flailing a bit as we go. Yep, that is more normal…

* * *

One young boy. Three teenage girls. One middle-aged, sadly single father. One female university grad now nanny gone time traveler. One centuries old year old alien with two hearts and a time machine. Several pizzas.

Sounds like the start of a bad comedy movie or something… But I can't find any humour in Angie's current efforts to make me and or the Doctor blush. She isn't really rude, or inappropriate, or anything that might tip her Dad off. She is being remarkable clever about the whole thing. She really is full of surprises and it's a bit annoying.

"Why'd you change Clara? I liked that dress you had on earlier." She asks.

"I got some flour on it when John and I were… baking."

A few bites later she is back at it.

"Oh I just remembered, I sent you a text about Dad coming home early. Did you get it? Were you paying attention to your phone?"

The Doctor saves me this time, remembering my lie to George about a missing somethingerother.

"No, she managed to lose one of her rings upstairs; we were both looking for it before George got home."

"Oh, I hope you found what you were after before Dad and Artie got back." She says, barely managing to conceal a grin.

Thankfully Artie decides it is time to once again retell the story of the bus breaking down, and that distracts Angie with the need to be annoyed at her brother instead of tormenting us.

George breaks up their squabbling, Angie begins chatting with Nina and Vicky, Artie starts asking the Doctor about Christopher Columbus and I thank my stars that dinner finishes without any more complications.

When our little crowd heads out, with Artie carrying the remainder of his drink and Angie carting leftovers, I am the last one out. George is holding the door open for me.

"You want to take off with John for a bit? I think Angie will go back to Vicky's, so it'll just be me and Artie at home. We can manage without you for a night." He says kindly.

Usually I would turn such an offer down, because usually I have nowhere to be at nights and because I feel bad leaving them.

"If you don't mind that would be great." I tell him, as we catch up to the Doctor and I feel his hand reach back to grab mine.

"I parked behind your place, do you mind giving us a lift back to your house?" The Doctor asks George.

The car ride is subdued, and I am a little jumpy every time someone says anything to me. My worries from earlier crop up in my mind again, are their winners or losers to this… I can feel the Doctor stealing looks at me, but for once I don't turn to meet his eyes. I already know he will be giving me a look of concern.

The way back to the Maitland's seems to take less time than the way there, and soon everyone is getting out of the car. The Doctor goes to take the leftovers from Angie so she can hop out easier, but Artie tries to get out first, tumbling into the Doctor and spilling the remainder of his soda all over his vest and trousers.

"I'm so sorry Doctor!" He cries, forgetting not to call him that in panic.

"No harm done Artie." The Doctor says gently, waving his arms a bit at his sopping midsection.

Angie gives me a look before heading down the street with her friends back to Vicky's place. Artie apologizes a few more times before his Dad coaxes him inside, bidding us a goodnight, leaving the Doctor and I alone once more, standing several feet apart.

He is scared too. Neither of us are caught up in a moment this time, and we have had a rather long, awkward night to think about what we almost did, if we really want to, what the consequences would be.

If we walk into the TARDIS and even the assembled hoards of Genghis Khan won't be able to interrupt us.

We do this, we give in.

He turns and begins to cross the distance to me, watching me all the way.

One.

Two.

Three.

Four.

Five.

Six…

He stops right in front of me, and I can see the damp patch on his vest and trousers from his collision with Artie.

"This is not just something I got carried away with. You are not just a game to me Clara Oswald." He says quietly.

This isn't chess; the Doctor doesn't forfeit those around him in real life. Maybe we can both win, at least a little…

"You're not just a madman with a snogbox to me Doctor." I reply quietly, surprising myself. Because we both know he is a _bit_ mad, but that isn't all he is, especially not to me…

His hand reaches out to fix a bit of my hair.

"Doctor?"

"Hmm?"

"We're going to have to get you out of those clothes."

He grins.

"Ms. Oswald. That could be considered very…"

I cut him off with a kiss.

"_Suggestive_." I finish for him a few moments later.


End file.
